


visions of gideon

by sorry4yourloss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/M, Flashbacks, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorry4yourloss/pseuds/sorry4yourloss
Summary: When they kiss, a million wars are waged inside of him. They are a human battleground, cannons exploding, blades clashing. He wants her, but he cannot—he will not.Still, their paths have intertwined, and it’s impossible to stop it.He remembers the first lesson Odin taught him: wars only end in death.
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn (Marvel)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	visions of gideon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Corrupted Lungs // Loki & Sigyn](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/678793) by ImmortalSparrow. 



> i love loki n sigyn they dont get enough attention
> 
> a lil angsty and really not well-put-together im sorry hahah it's meant to be like in pieces because its his memory

His past comes back to him in flashes.

—

“My apologies, Loki,” Thor says, and Loki can tell he truly means it. The blonde gestures to the bruise blossoming on Loki’s shoulder, and although Loki was the one that was hurt, it’s Thor who has the kicked-puppy look on his face. “This was not my intention.”

“What was your intention, then, brother?” Loki hisses, clearly annoyed. “Hand to hand combat should not involve—” he inhales sharply, shoots an angry look at Mjolnir. “That  _ thing _ .”

“I’m still learning to use it,” he replies sheepishly, letting the large hammer hang limp from his wrist. It swings lightly, unassuming. “I have no control over when it returns to my hand.”

Loki glares at Thor, glancing between him and his injured arm. “You’re saying it could have killed me,” he says, frown deepening. “If it had returned at a different point in time, it could have killed me. I could have died.”

“Don’t tell Father,” Thor pleads, “please?”

Loki snorts. “Not like he’d care anyway.”

“Still.” Thor takes Loki’s hand in his, but Loki quickly pulls away in disgust. “Swear not to tell him?”

Loki rolls his eyes.

“Tell him what?” a voice cuts in, echoing throughout the marble walls of the room. Thor, unused to interruption, jumps away, making his culpability obvious. Loki reaches towards him, gently pulling him back and giving him a deliberate look.

“Tell him about our plans for his birthday feast,” Loki covers smoothly. He looks at the source of the voice, ready to continue, but is struck dumb.

She’s alluring.

Loki—the ever-suave, charming Loki—is speechless, frozen in place as the woman strides up to him, tenderly taking his arm into her hands. 

She’s speaking, but he’s paying no mind to her words, instead glazing over her looks, analyzing who she could possibly be: her hair is the muted color of apricots, carefully braided and tied up into a bun, as Asgardians do. Her eyes are almost the same color as his, an icy blue, staring up at him through long eyelashes. Freckles dot her pointed nose, lips painted over with a light pink tint. She’s wearing a yellow dress, but it’s covered by a sheer white pinafore, indicating that she’s a nurse, a healer—he wonders, then, how he’s never seen her before, for he and Thor tend to require healers often.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and he doesn’t know what he’s thanking her for. Thor smirks knowingly, estimating the meaning behind his words, but the woman has no idea of Loki’s conviction, smiling up at him.

“You’re welcome,” she says matter-of-factly, and her expression shifts to one of confusion. “Though I haven’t done anything yet. I was asking you how you’d gotten this.” She traces a finger around his bruise, and he glances at it in surprise.

“Oh.” Loki blushes slightly, chuckling at his own lack of elegance. “I tripped and fell into a pillar while we were walking.”

“That is not what Thor told me,” she replies evenly, and Loki blinks, bewildered. “He said—what did you say, Thor?”

“I, um,” Thor stutters. “I think you may have misinterpreted what I told you. What Loki said is correct.”

The healer frowns, still outlining the bruise with her finger. “That’s odd. How hard could you possibly have fallen in order for this to happen?”

“Oh, wow, is that Father calling me?” Thor continues, standing up and nearly falling back over again out of haste. “I must go! Goodbye. Safe healing, brother.”

And with that, he runs out of the room, leaving a stumped Loki in his wake.

“It was very unexpected,” Loki says, deciding to answer her question from earlier. She looks back at him, watching him speak. “I suppose I have more upper body weight than one would think.”

“Really?” She smirks and goes from poking the bruise to poking his bicep. “It doesn’t seem like there’s much there.”

He scoffs. “Excuse me!”

“Either way,” she jokes with a raised eyebrow, “it’s nothing compared to Thor’s.”

“Oh, trust me, I know.” Loki rolls his eyes. She quiets, and he realizes that she’s holding her shimmering hands over the bruise. He watches as the purpled skin begins to go back to normal, but his eyes flicker to her face.

As she finishes, she seems to pick up on him watching her, meeting his eyes.

“What’s your name?” he finally asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Sigyn.”

“I’m Loki.”

She smiles. “Nice to meet you.”

—

He is hers. 

She doesn’t know it yet, but he is hers.

He knows it—how? By the way his heart pounds when he looks at her, by the way he trips over himself to visit her every day, by the way her voice echoes over and over in his mind when he lies awake at night.

He belongs to her.

—

“Loki,” she says softly, and he immediately whirls around to look at her, smiling in an almost childlike manner. She chuckles, pets his head fondly, says no more. There is no need—their presence is enough.

—

“I am deserving of the throne,” Loki informs her, all too seriously. “Odin knows it, and he will choose Thor nonetheless.”

“Thor is less likely to go against his wishes,” she murmurs, curling up into his arms. “He’s raising him in his image.”

“Thor is impulsive and rash. He’ll charge straight into battle with whoever opposes Asgard without giving it a second thought.”

“I’m sure you could use that against him, if you must,” Sigyn tells him tiredly.

“Conspiring against the future king?” he teases, playing with the ends of her hair. “How dare you.”

She traces hearts into his arm, and Loki hopes she notices his muscle growth. He relaxes, closing his eyes as she whispers, “Anything for you, my love.”

—

“I can spot your friends from a mile away,” Sigyn mutters into his ear, and Loki chuckles. He sees them, as well: Thor and the Warriors are the most outlandish in the room despite it being filled with other Asgardians. 

They are laughing and drinking, a brutish glow about them, prompting Loki to say, “I wouldn’t call them my friends.”

“Why? Because they’re happy?” Sigyn swats his arm, chuckling. “They invited us here, did they not?”

“Only because they wanted to meet you,” he tells her. 

“I’m honored.”

They join the five at the table, buzzing with greetings and introductions.

All the while, he can only look at her.

—

“How do you ever expect to become king if you can barely take on the responsibilities of a prince?” Odin bellows, and Loki takes a careful step back. “Thor finishes his duty without fail, and you continue to underperform every day.”

“Father, if I may,“ Loki starts, flinching when Odin meets his eyes. “You give Thor much less than you give me. Surely you’ve noticed that you give me at least ten times more work—“

“Then work ten times harder,” he’s told harshly, and Loki sighs. “Stop spending time with that healer girl; do you not see that you’re holding her back, as well? I could have her fired. Remember that.”

—

“I feel as if,” he says in between kisses, with hushed breaths. “A link exists between your heart and mine.”

She pulls away, arms still wrapped around his neck, and smiles. Her eyes, however, are wandering, impatient, constantly hungry for more. Still, when she speaks, all else falls away. “Is that your way of saying you love me?”

—

“I would go to the ends of the universe for you,” she tells him, and he freezes.

“Don’t.” He is undeserving, and she cannot meet the same fate as all of his other lovers. He’s never loved someone back before.

“Why not?” she asks almost angrily, gaze boring through him. “Would you not do the same?”

“I would,” he replies firmly. “That’s why.”

—

When they kiss, a million wars are waged inside of him. They are a human battleground, cannons exploding, blades clashing. He wants her, but he cannot—he will not.

Still, their paths have intertwined, and it’s impossible to stop it.

He remembers the first lesson Odin taught him: wars only end in death.

—

“Is it true?” she asks, and he turns to look at her. Sigyn is standing limply in the doorway, looking more defeated than anything else.

Loki straightens, beckons her over, but she is unmoving. “Is what true?”

“Did you really drive your past lovers to madness?”

“Sigyn,” he says, but her name already feels unfamiliar in his mouth. He stands, runs to her, cupping her face in his hands. “You’re different. The others, I did not reciprocate their feelings, but you—“

“How am I to know that you’re telling the truth?” 

Her voice is cold, gaze hardening. He’s lost the will to reply.

“Exactly,” she concludes, and she exits.

—

He searches every shop, every jeweler, for the perfect token of his love.

Finally he stumbles upon it: a glittering golden ring, topped with the most beautiful diamond he’s ever seen. “This will do,” he whispers to himself. “Asking for her hand in marriage—she’ll understand, then.”

He pockets the ring, more sure of himself than ever.

—

He can’t find her.

Odin’s feast comes, and she is lost to him.

“Haven’t you heard?” Thor tells Loki, placing a hand on his shoulder as he worriedly looks out the window. “She’s here with a warrior—a general, I think.”

Loki dashes away from Thor, searching the crowds of people for the woman he loves.

Sure enough, her hands are intertwined with that of another man, her head on his shoulder.

The ring slips from his hand to the ground, and with it, his heart.

—

“I have received another offer of marriage,” she announces, standing in his doorway like she had before. Loki glances at her via her reflection in his mirror, refusing to look upon her directly.

“So I’ve heard,” he lies, forbidding his voice to shake.

“Why don’t you offer to marry me?”

He turns, then, breaking his own rules to gaze at her one last time. “We’re lethal to each other,” he says simply, and he turns back around before he can see her go.

—

He can spot her unhappiness from a mile away.

They decide not to tell her fiancé about her late-night visits, though neither of them necessarily acknowledge it either—to Loki, they feel too much like dreams, so he dismisses them as such.

—

One night, she stops, abruptly pushing him off of her and getting out of bed. She strides to his dresser and picks up something shiny, scrutinizing it with the curious eyes that he had fallen in love with.

She walks back over, letting it rest in the palm of her hand. She shows it to him and he realizes, then, that it is the ring he bought for her.

“Whose is this?”

His gaze falls on the ring, willing her to put it on and know: “It’s yours.”

She laughs, placing it onto her pillow and standing up. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She disappears for what feels like the millionth time.

—

The general makes her one of his warriors, and when he catches her at training, he’s filled with an odd mixture of pride and jealousy.

She had always been a fighter at heart.

Now, rather than being living wargrounds within themselves, they fight the same physical fights side-by-side. He can’t help the stolen glances, the flutter of his heart whenever they lock eyes mid-battle, when he foolishly ignores his opponent in favor of covering for her.

—

“We shall meet again,” she swears to him the night they agree to end their relationship. “And fight, and drink, and… love one another.”

—

His heart aches for her.

—

Her troop is sent on a mission to Jotunheim—they need resources and nothing more, so Thor tells him and the Warriors that it’s not necessary for them to go. 

“The Frost Giants,” Loki tries to reason, “are our biggest enemy. Do we need to send anyone there?”

“They have a certain type of metal that we need,” Thor replies with a shrug. “The general is skilled, and there’s no reason to fight. Not to worry.”

—

The general is skilled, indeed, for he is the only one who returns, covered in blood and carrying one body.

Her hair topples out of its braid as he sets her limp body on the ground. Blood is gushing out of an icy stab wound in her side, carving out a hole in her body.

Loki is frozen.

The general is speaking and people are rushing around them but all Loki can see is her body, Sigyn’s dead body.

A glint of light reflects off of something beside her bloodied corpse, next to her open hand.

Loki, finally, is able to stand, walking over to examine what it could be, but when he reaches the body, he collapses to his knees. Tears stream down his face, mixing with the blood, and through his blurred vision he manages to pick up the object.

He wants to scream, but makes no sound.

It’s the ring he had gotten her—once a token of his love, now a constant reminder of her death.

_ We shall meet again _ , he recalls her saying, and his heart feels like it may possibly stop at any moment. 

He runs his hand over her sword:  _ and fight, _

He tidies up her room, picking a bottle up from her bedside table:  _ and drink, _

And finally, he looks down into his hands, allowing himself to gaze upon the ring:  _ and love one another. _

That night, he throws the ring into the ocean, vowing never to love again.

**Author's Note:**

> excerpt from a longer self-insert fic that ill never post ANYWHERE it is ASTRONOMICALLY embarrassing.
> 
> ty for reading ilu<3


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